


【君も。。。ダンガンロンパが好きだよね？】

by gyuuniku



Series: Two of a Kind (aka self-indulgent pregame SaiOuma smut series) [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Bullying, Intro chapter to a series of smut pieces, M/M, No smut in this chapter though!, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Sickfic, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyuuniku/pseuds/gyuuniku
Summary: “We ride the same train, you know,” Ouma managed to extract one of his hands from between his clamped thighs, rubbing underneath his dripping eyes before he reached into his pocket. Thankfully, it was still there, his cellphone that had managed to not be stolen by anyone as he had been unconscious on the floor.As he pulled it out, a strap slipped from his pocket, dangling in the air as it seemed to intensify the atmosphere.“I saw, on your phone. Are you mad at me for looking? I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself…” Black and white, with a dash of red that made it as menacing as it deserved to be. The monochrome bear grinned at Saihara with a different air than it normally carried in this situation.“You like Danganronpa too, don’t you?”





	【君も。。。ダンガンロンパが好きだよね？】

**Author's Note:**

> !This is the intro chapter for a smut series I'll be posting, but this chapter itself doesn't have any smut in it!

“I can just lay down her- Ah, oh…. Thank you…” Ouma winced slightly as he was placed on the bed rather artlessly, bouncing a bit as the sickness inside his head sloshed around at the movement. Every single shift made his pounding head and winded body throb in pain, like he was being shook back and forth violently at the most banal motions.

He couldn’t blame his help though, Saihara looked equally as tired himself once Ouma was off of his arm and safely on the bed. Ouma had practically put all of his weight on him, what little of it there was, for half of the trek to the nurse’s office after all. The other boy sat down in the chair opposite him, and let out a huff, his head hung lightly and his hat covering his eyes so Ouma could not see what his expression fully was.

“Um-I’m sorry, you really didn’t have to help me like that Saihara-kun…” The sheets were cold against Ouma’s palms, and it felt soothing, but his anxiety forced his hands into his lap as he balled them together.

“And leave you laying on the ground? I don’t think so…” He was definitely sucking in big gasps of air between his words, and the sounds made Ouma’s fingers curl together even tighter in shame. To go through all of that trouble for Ouma…

“It’s alright, Ouma-kun, just focus on feeling better, okay?” Saihara looked up with his smile, that smile, and Ouma felt his vision almost lessen as it made his already uneven heartbeat slip. Focus on what?

When Saihara had found Ouma laying face first on the unforgiving tile of the 4th floor hallway, he honestly thought the boy was dead. I mean, that was the only explanation, right? Everyone else had to have seen his collapsed body, and rushed to get help.

It was the middle of the day, and even though classes were in session, there were students idling through the hallways for one reason or another. In fact, there were two strolling slowly around the corner and out of sight just ahead of Saihara and the body on the floor. They had to have seen him then, there was no doubt about it, yet they were moving as if there was nothing disturbing about the scene, like they had seen nothing but a normal hallway.

When Saihara rolled his limp body over, he discovered that he was not in fact dead, but flushed and hot with heavy breathing and an obvious fever. His eyes opened deliriously, and his hoarse throat attempted to squeak out what sounded like his savior’s name, but ultimately failed.

Without wasting time, Saihara managed to get him to his feet, and to the nurse’s office without _too_ much of a hassle. Saihara was healthy, but he was nowhere near strong enough to support another person’s body weight. Luckily, in the twisted situation at least, Ouma was perhaps the smallest boy in the entire school, making it slightly more manageable for his aid. He could explain to his homeroom teacher later why his bathroom break had taken thirty minutes as opposed to three, and if push came to shove he could grab a note from the nurse.

Halfway through their trek, Ouma had become conscious again, able to lift his feet and speak. Once he could open his dry and crusted lips, all that pushed past them were endless apologies.

“S-aiha-ra-kun?” His words were broken at first, lifting his wide, violet eyes to look up at the boy heaving him along with a concentrated face.

“O-Ouma-kun? Are you feeling okay?” Saihara thought about stopping, as he glanced down at Ouma, but decided the quicker they got to a bed the better. That was a weird way to phrase that.

“I-I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m-“ Ouma attempted to pull his arm off of Saihara’s shoulder, where he had it wrapped around and carrying most of his weight, and it only managed to slip from Saihara’s grasp in a moment of surprise. “I didn’t mean to trouble you like- Aa-!”

The reality of being completely on his own feet and supporting himself, while somehow still walking with his previous momentum, made Ouma tumble to the ground. His legs turned inward as he landed on his backside, jarring his whole body and making his once fuzzy head throb with searing pain.

“Ouma-kun! Don’t do anything irrational!” The concerned boy bent down, and the first thing Ouma saw when he opened his eyes that he had squeezed shut were Saihara’s hands reaching forward toward him. “You’re sick, I’m just trying to get you to the nurse’s office. I think you fainted.”

“Is that… Really?” Ouma put a hand on his head, feeling finally the full force of the fever he now remembered suffering from. He had been at least able to walk this morning, though…

“Come on, it’s only a little ways more, I can help you there.”

Ouma already knew the world, no, the universe, God, whatever you called it, hated him. But why, _why_ did it have to be Saihara who found him? The embarrassment was too much, and he wanted to cover his face and disappear behind the wide sleeves of his black uniform. But if he hid his face in shame, he knew Saihara would think he had done something wrong, and he would be sad. Sad, put-off, disgusted, he would leave Ouma on the floor like he had found him. He would never look at Ouma again.

“O-Okay…” Ouma conceded after his intense train of thoughts finally derailed and left him with only a pounding headache. He let Saihara help him to his feet, and the hands belonging to the boy he had longed to feel close to for so long were finally on him for the first time… Consciously at least.

Why did it have to be this way? Ouma was overwhelmed with the image of his helpless and lifeless body collapsed on the floor, feeling nauseous thinking about what Saihara had witnessed on his account. But he had still helped him… The cool, caring, conscientious Saihara had his arm around his waist, holding him up despite the strain Ouma knew he was under. If he thought of it that way… he could bear the situation he was in.

They stumbled the final stretch to the nurse’s office in silence, to where they sat, across from each other in silence.

Ouma was still fumbling with his hands when he spoke up, unfortunately at the same time as the other boy.

“Um, do you happen to have the-“

“What’s the last thing-“

Ouma immediately clamped his hands over his mouth, muffling a small noise that would have finished his sentence. Saihara raised his eyebrows in surprise, never seeing such an extreme reaction to the mundane, albeit awkward situation of talking over one another. Didn’t people… normally just laugh it off?

“I’m sorry! Go ahead!” He spoke through his fingers, and Saihara could only smile in slight awkwardness.

“I was just wondering, what was the last thing you remember?” Saihara brushed his hand across his forehead to relieve the sweat slightly, as Ouma remained in pensive silence.

“I… remember putting my shoes in my locker. And then…” The other seemed increasingly unable to recall anything else in his sick daze, so Saihara spoke.

“That early? I wonder then…” He mused to himself.

“I was going to ask… What time is it exactly?” If he were to be honest, even thinking about the concept of time and it passing at this moment was unbearable to his sweltering mind, but he really didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were. The least he could do was fill the void with conversation.

“It’s almost lunch period, I’m surprised you don’t remember anything later than that.” Saihara sounded way more inquisitive than was necessary for this situation, but it was genuinely starting to puzzle him as to how long Ouma had been laying on that floor.

Ouma was a grade younger than Saihara was, so he couldn’t say much in the way of what their daily routines were like, but he found it extremely hard to believe that it had changed so drastically over one summer that there would be no other humans in the hallway during the entire homeroom period to see Ouma collapsed on the floor. He knew it to be true, he had seen students in his year in the hallway the same time he had found him.

The only logical solution then… Was that his classmates had seen him fall to the ground, and just ignored it.

What kind of sick bullying went on the floor below his own class’?

“E-Either way, I’m okay now. You can go back to class, Saihara-kun, I would hate to get you into trouble.” Was this not surprising to Ouma? He accepted it like it was some sort of every day occurrence, to be ignored like he wasn’t even alive in the same room as everyone else. This was too extreme, Saihara had trouble imagining what the soft-spoken boy had done to incur such a cruel treatment from his schoolmates. It was always bewildering, whenever he got a peek into Ouma’s bitter life.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if you faint again?” Either way, he pushed it to the side in favor of continuing the conversation smoothly, not wanting to upset Ouma anymore in case he happened to swoon again as a result. “I’ll wait until the Nurse comes back.”

“… You’re so nice, Saihara-kun.” Ouma finally managed to speak with a sad smile, after his shocked silence passed, his shoulders shivering as he spoke. Despite feeling so hot, and so cold, and so embarrassed, Ouma’s chest was bursting with a pleasing warmth. Saihara was staying with him, with _him._

Saihara’s eyes visibly widened in response, confusion and intrigue mixing behind his warmly gold irises. They looked at Ouma, and the fidgeting boy found he had to glance to the side to stay sane.

“No, I just did what any other person would.” At least, what Saihara’s surface personality _thought_ they would, but in truth he wasn’t surprised. People were vile.

“You’re wrong!” Ouma somehow managed to pull in tighter on himself, his hands shoved in between his legs as the trembling of his body grew more noticeable. “You’re always looking out for me, Saihara-kun!

When we first met, you… You were the first person to say anything to me that day.”

The entrance ceremony to their high school was always relatively small, along with the student body. If they hadn’t met then, Saihara was sure at some point they would have learned each other’s names eventually. But that day, it was mandatory for all upperclassmen to attend the ceremony, and become a sort of supporter to a first year, acting as their guide around the school for the day.

It usually worked like a great recruiting tactic for clubs, or for guys to meet girls who had no idea of their reputations yet, and the pair would keep up minimal contact, if any, once that singular day was done. After the lengthy, and frankly unceremonious ceremony, Saihara was paired with a plain boy whose uniform sat a bit too baggy on his body. Room to grow, he had heard that phrase from his mother too often back in those embarrassing days.

Saihara kept his head low, and his hat on, for the majority of his life, so they were the last match to find each other. Lost in the crowds by being too forgettable, and too dodgy.

By the time they had matched up, and gotten their introductions over with, the gym was entirely empty. Empty, except for one student, sitting alone in the rows of chairs. At the front of the foldable sections, the teachers were already beginning to collect the chairs, barely noticing the boy who was still glancing around nervously as he clutched his inductive paperwork to his chest.

Probably a lost first year, then, Saihara concluded, and his feet moved toward the other boy before he had a chance to explain to his stuttering partner.

“Were you not able to find your supporter?” Saihara’s voice clearly startled him, but in a much more exaggerated way than he was used to another person reacting. The boy jumped, and his eyes turned to him with some sort of primal, frightened look inside of them. Almost like he was expecting Saihara to punch him square in the face.

“I-I!” He scrambled for his papers, and shifted through them with shaky fingers, looking for the singular one in the stack of many that had his name and his upperclassmen’s printed at the top in bold lettering. When he found it, he looked over the name again, checking his pronunciation mentally before displaying the paper in defeat, covering his face halfway with it.

“Um, I didn’t see anyone with this nametag on…” His voice was barely a mouse’s squeak, but Saihara heard him, though faintly.

“Oh, Saionji-san…” She wasn’t in Saihara’s class, but he knew her naturally, an uncommonly small girl with an equally uncommon cruel streak. He almost felt bad that this seemingly mild-mannered first year was partnered with her.

But he had seen Saionji earlier, with another group of new students, leaving the gym. Maybe she had been assigned more than one to look after then… But why someone like Saionji would be chosen for that was beyond Saihara. It made barely any sense, were the teachers actively trying to terrify their fresh-faced pupils?

“W-Well, you can join us for our tour and maybe we’ll run into her?” Saihara really wasn’t good at these types of things, his suggestion tilted up at the end in an unsure question, as if he were suggesting something disagreeable. Being the one in charge, the eldest who inherently carried wisdom then, wasn’t familiar ground to him.

But the boy’s eyes illuminated with a flurry of positive emotions, and his face was covered in a now comfortable blush, revealing his lips so he could speak, “I-If that’s really okay. Thank you, Senpai!”

“S-?” That was definitely new, and Saihara had to avert his eyes to keep himself from getting too visibly embarrassed. “Just my name is fine. It’s Saihara Shuichi.”

Slowly the boy nodded, and Saihara could see the mental notes he was taking like a frank, and open book, like he wasn’t trying to hide it, or he couldn’t.

“Okay, I understand. My name is Ouma Kokichi, it’s- It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

As the three made their way from the room, Ouma trailing closely on Saihara’s heels, the older of the three heard his original partner mutter to himself, but loud enough to hear, “Great, the shrimp is with us. No girls will even want to talk to me now.”

Why would someone say something like that so openly if they didn’t intend for the other person to hear?

But Saihara already knew. He already knew humanity was filth.

It only took him another week to realize that Ouma carried with him some sort of power that made others disdain him. Not elders, or anyone with an inkling of empathy. To them, he was a skinny boy with a sweet temperate who always managed to mess up, but do as he was told.

To those in his grade, however, he was a scourge. A curse. Like his back was branded with the nastiest, foulest mark that made him the brunt of every one of their bad emotions. His cheek always seemed bandaged, his homework was always soiled from being dumped in a muddy puddle. Slowly, Saihara began to understand his flinching and apologizing, it made sense when your entire existence was a goddamn joke.

It made him angry. Incensed, almost. But those emotions never made their way to the surface around his peers.

It didn’t take a genius to assume that Saionji had been informed of Ouma’s position as the class scapegoat, and chose to leave the room without even finding her partner that day. But for Saihara to be the first person the boy spoke to at the ceremony? No one- and if it was true- truly no one, found it their duty to spare him a hello, a greeting in good faith?

Saihara was inquisitive to a fault, and per usual, it just ended with him wishing he had never even inquired into the life of Ouma Kokichi.

The truth of the memory left him slightly wordless, but Ouma continued, still unable to meet his gaze but continue with fervor.

“And, ever since then, you’ve been kinder to me than anyone else.”

“Ouma-“ He tried to interrupt him, but Ouma only continued, like he was an uncorked bottle spewing his emotions across the light pink floor.

“I’ll never be able to repay you, Saihara-kun! You’ve shown me so much kindness,” It was the sickness, surely, that was pushing him to tears. That was what Ouma could say if he was a normal person. But he wasn’t, he was a crybaby, and nearly anything made his eyes burn and his throat close.

But this, these were real tears. His true emotions for Saihara. He had to get them across.

“We ride the same train, you know,” Ouma managed to extract one of his hands from between his clamped thighs, rubbing underneath his dripping eyes before he reached into his pocket. Thankfully, it was still there, his cellphone that had managed to not be stolen by anyone as he had been unconscious on the floor.

As he pulled it out, a strap slipped from his pocket, dangling in the air as it seemed to intensify the atmosphere.

“I saw, on your phone. Are you mad at me for looking? I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself…” Black and white, with a dash of red that made it as menacing as it deserved to be. The monochrome bear grinned at Saihara with a different air than it normally carried in this situation.

“You like Danganronpa too, don’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Phew hey, thanks for giving this a read!  
> I tried to not make this as innocent as it ended up being... The smut series itself is going to be very... very kinky and not for everyone lol. I did my best to lightly allude to the fact that not everything is right with Saihara, but I think (per usual) Ouma took my attention and the forefront. It's no matter, if you chose to continue reading the next upload in the series you'll find out soon enough Saihara isn't who he fully claims to be in public :^)  
> The reason I'm separating this from the rest of the series is that I like to tag everything thoroughly, like everything, and I really didn't want the later chapters tags for the smut to interfere with this singular chapter and if people wanted to read it.  
> Either way, I hope to see you in the next chapter! If you enjoyed, please leave some kudos and a comment, they fuel me.  
> 


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